Page 17 of Plentywood
Mark had been correct. I didn’t want to fall in love with Bella, but she made me. And of course, girl dogs were better than boy dogs. Girl dogs don’t lift their legs on everything taller than an inch high. Bella had quickly wormed her way into my heart despite my best efforts and her love for Mark. She recognized the heart and soul of the house, making Mark her alpha pack leader.
“Hey, girl,” I soothed, scratching her chin. I wondered ifshequestioned where Mark was. One day he was here and then he wasn’t. Just like that. How do you explain that to a dog? “I spoke with Daddy today,” I told her, walking in the front door, her underfoot as always. I’d become the new alpha in her world. Funny how adaptable dogs are. I wish I was capable of the same. “He misses his Bella-Girl,” I added, speaking to her like what she was—my only companion these days.
I retrieved a beer from the fridge, so I’d have company on my way to the bedroom to change out of my uniform. Bella was already on the bed, probably hoping it was nap time. My usual routine was a beer on arrival, a beer as I searched throughYouTubevideos, deciding whether it’d be travel vlogs or street food videos, and perhaps a few more beers while I watched.
My routine had developed quickly while the numbness of my world encapsulated my life. Bella allowed me to say what I felt without having to defend myself. If I was angry, I told her. If I was pissed at the entire world, including God, she listened, probably agreeing, in my opinion.
The fifth trip to the fridge found me disappointed that my beer inventory was depleted. “Shit!” I hissed, slamming the door, worried I might have to eat tonight rather than count on a barley-and-hops meal again.
I’d kill for one of Mark’s homemade meals, remembering his talent as a cook as I searched for anything edible in the fridge. A chunk of cheddar was busy creating its own bio-dome of mold, and a bag of salad mix was now drinkable through a straw. There were those two choices, or six eggs I didn’t remember buying this year. It was June, so that’d be a calculated risk.
I could go into town and get bothered by every single person I encountered at the small grocery store, or I could drive south to Culbertson and Skeeter’s gas station for cheap beer and ahotdog. “Let’s go, girl,” I said, barely finishing my sentence before Bella headed for the doggy door.
I met her at the Tahoe while she waited for me to open the back door. “We’re going south, pooch,” I told her, watching as she settled in. She knew the routine. No riding on front seats in this vehicle due to too many important instruments up in front. She didn’t like being separated by a division of glass, but it beat staying home alone.
Once at the end of my driveway, I debated one last time. Left on the highway to Culbertson, or right to town. Town was five minutes and maybe a mile and a half away, while Culbertson was twenty plus miles south. I had no plansagain, so I took a left and settled in for a leisurely ride away from Plentywood. I had nothing going on. Plus, Charlie sold his beer cheap, and his hotdogs weren’t half bad.
Charlie, aka Skeeter to some, had tried to supply me withhishotdog for years, but despite his great looks, for the most part, I’d managed to keep my dick dry of him. He was majorly hot and made it no secret he liked men, a rare stance in these parts of the country. It didn’t hurt that he had a devil-may-care attitude about life. Not to mention he looked wiry and like he wouldn’t mind tussling with the meanest of men, given the chance.
Charlie was hosing down the concrete drive around the gas pumps when I pulled up. He was shirtless and looking like a porn star orInstagramhunk filming a video. Based on his looks alone, he’d get thousands of likes if he did.
I pulled alongside the station and let Bella out of the back. She immediately bolted to Charlie, her second or third favorite human. Charlie and Jill traded places, depending on what they had to offer her in the love or food department. She knew the gas station meant a hotdog, sans the bun. At the diner, it was raw veggies. I questioned her allegiance to Jill based on her food gifts. Bella didn’t give a shit either way.
“Outta beer, sheriff?” Charlie asked, kneeling to love on Bella. “Or finally wanting that cock sucked?”
“You’d choke on it and it’d be a waste of time,” I replied, ignoring him and walking into his store.
Surprisingly, Charlie had a nice selection of food and snacks. I’d heard he made a good living because Culbertson didn’t have a grocery store, which allowed him to sell milk, bread, and eggs at ridiculously high prices.
Ten seconds hadn’t passed before he and Bella joined me indoors. “I can close up if you wanna come around back for some action.”
Charlie lived in a travel trailer around the back of his station. He ran his power, water, and septic lines directly from the station. I’d been inside his camper once or twice. I’d also been close to being in his pants once or twice recently, but we’d avoided that ever since… well, it’d been a while, and that was another story. He was hot for sure, and I always got a sexual vibe from him, but I wasn’t interested in crossing that line of whatever it was we were to each other.
“You wanting your ass fucked?” I inquired, knowing the answer ahead of time.
“I’ve been practicing with a dildo ever since,” he responded, giving me an answer I hadn’t expected. “So, yeah, why not?”
I glanced down at my belt buckle. “I’m probably not the guy you should continue practicing with, but you already know that.”
“How about just a taste, then?”
Ignoring his last-ditch effort to get me unzipped, I turned and headed for the wall of glass-door coolers. He had a terrific inventory of beer. In fact, eight glass doors displayed beer and wine, while only two featured sodas.
Coming back up the aisle, I found him with his arms crossed and leaning against the front counter. He was a sight for sure. Charlie was lean and mean. I lost count of his abs before turningaway from him. Memory reminded me he’d be a wild fuck, and since it’d been a minute or two, I could use any kind of fuck.
“How long those hotdogs been spinning around?” I asked, diverting my eyes from a fine piece of manhood and to a small roller grill with hotdogs and some sort of burritos, sitting inside and on the countertop.
“Most of the day,” he replied, moving away, probably giving up on his seduction game. “Mine’s fresh, though.” I guess he hadn’t given up.
I set a half rack of cheap beer on the counter. “Three dogs and a burrito,” I said, yanking my wallet out of my back pocket.
He examined me closely, shaking his head slowly. “All this shitty food and you still look like that?” he asked, motioning toward my body. “I like you in just jeans and a T-shirt, sheriff,” he added, grinning like theCheshire Cat. “How old are thoseWranglers?”
“Old enough to know better than to listen to you,” I quipped, throwing two twenties on the counter.
Charlie grabbed my hand when I tossed the second bill down, looking into my eyes as he held me in his grip. “You’re fucking hot, Hunt,” he hissed. “What’s another roll in the hay gonna hurt? I suck a mean cock, too. Come on, bro. Let me have another go at that cock of yours.”
His eyes lingered on my crotch and he not-so subtly licked his lower lip. If he only knew how very close he was to convincing me, he’d ask me one or two more times. His full lips and pouty face were exactly what I needed to be staring at as I fed him my cock.
